


many the lumps of frankincense (it makes no difference)

by chantefable



Category: Black Sails, Persuasion - Jane Austen
Genre: 18th Century, Alternate Universe, Character Study, Friendship/Love, M/M, Open Relationships, Period Typical Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 06:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20003923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chantefable/pseuds/chantefable
Summary: Thrilled as Lord Thomas Hamilton was to have the opportunity to introduce Captain Wentworth to Lieutenant McGraw, he was eager to pursue further and make them less Captain and Lieutenant and more Frederick and James, to himself and to each other alike.





	many the lumps of frankincense (it makes no difference)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



The darling Captain was an old acquaintance. Gaining the step through perseverance after being spurned by his lady of interest, he was determined, even though sometimes far too imprudently focussed in his warped kind of vanity that urged him to gain significance he lacked through a trick of birth. But this perceived weakness of character by no means made him inconstant or unpleasant in company. In fact, Thomas, Lord Hamilton, relentlessly enjoyed the company of the aforementioned Captain with dexterity and ease, such was the pleasure provided by the firmness of his character and the novelty the man sought in his pursuits, quenching the thirst for all things satisfying, lush, abundant and responsive.

Thrilled as Thomas was to have the opportunity to introduce Captain Wentworth to Lieutenant McGraw, he was eager to pursue further and make them less Captain and Lieutenant and more Frederick and James, to himself and to each other alike. It was as if spring had come in a flurry of flower petals, the delight lingering all over his body like delicious dew: it had happened, unequivocally, in Thomas' own house, and it had been pure bliss of conviviality and cordial conversation.

If only there had been more of it.

***

Thomas' thoughts often lingered on the Lieutenant. It was as if without his presence, Thomas' heart felt stifled and silenced despite the breath of summer: warm scents of July joy loitered in the streets, staving off the persistently smothering smog, and yet inside, all thoughts, all hopes, all pain curled into tight wisps of feeling and stayed covered by immaculate cold.

Some days, McGraw was his erstwhile stiff self, unsure of how to fit in despite his many accomplishments, and drove Thomas to blissful distraction with his laboured breathing and stiff mouth as he struggled to find words to articulate his ideas, and visibly doubted his welcome, in Thomas' house and bed alike.

And yet some days, quite inexplicably, he surprised Thomas so much he feared he was ungracious in his acceptance, for such was the greed excited by McGraw's unexpected compliance. He would treat Thomas' desires as indispensable orders, plunging into the thick of it headfirst, as if convinced that his swiftness might conceal the tremble of disquiet that made the action even dearer, even sweeter to Thomas. 

It was as if, having accepted the nature of Thomas' advances, he refused to be hindered from discovering new depths of ardour even as it pained him. Revived by a sincere passion, now, as Thomas believed it, shared between the two of them, he was willing to take on new experiments, new habits, make new acquaintances. The trust that the precious Lieutenant placed in Thomas was headier than any wine.

Upon finding out that James was desirous of continuing the acquaintance with Captain Frederick Wentworth, whom Thomas had all but pressed upon him at one of Miranda's marvellous suppers, Thomas felt something so agreeable and strong within his soul that he almost feared that it might burst with the enormity of sweet feeling. Indeed, he strove to direct his thoughts towards charitable and worthy notions, for naturally the pleasant, intelligent company of Captain Wentworth was bound to work wonders on his dear Lieutenant's development and disposition – but ecstatic joy mingled streams and soon suppressed all other thoughts entirely when James consented – amazingly, with mock coyness and true impatience – to bring Thomas' erstwhile lover to their bed.

***

The wind, master of all things transient, rushed through the open window, rustling the curtains as carelessly as a milkmaid's petticoats, and flowed forth past the desk, putting the papers into disarray turning the pages of the book splayed open in Thomas' lap. He stared, willing himself to see the stark, dark letters and not two figures intertwined before his mind's eye, with heavy, bare limbs in restless motion. Whom would you have, Thomas, a new gentleman with good manners, gallantry and independence, so thoroughly pleasant and steadfast, alluring in his bravery and sensitivity, and so similar to yourself you feel like you know him in the very marrow of your bones? Or would you have another one, equally bold and committed to forging his own fortune, but whom you keenly wish to imbue of more good sense and consideration, lick up his roughness and rashness as you lick the sweat from his reddened skin? He smiled to himself and carelessly tightened his fingers, crumpling the fragile paper.

 _Socrates said, 'What will you have? the souls of reasonable, or unreasonable creatures?'_ What will you have? Thomas knew his own mind very well; he knew his own principles, and he knew the kind of person he preferred. 

_'Of reasonable.'_ For they were both precious, and Thomas knew why he liked them so, how the vigour of their minds appealed to him inasmuch as the stateliness of body.

 _'But what? Of those whose reason is sound and perfect? or of those whose reason is vitiated and corrupted?'_ Thomas knew, he knew what was the sensible thing to do – 

_'Of those whose reason is sound and perfect.'_

And yet. Eyes closed, he recalled Frederick and James in bed together, as close to each other as they were to Thomas himself, the three of them caught in a whirl of loose pleasures. And he knew, from the memory of sure hands and of hesitant ones, from the echo of sensation that burned his flesh, which one would be an entirely more sensible choice. Better for him and Miranda, closer; a fitting familiarity and good judgement in every fibre of his being. The other one, learning so sweetly and eagerly, and yet bearing the tart taste of shame in his kiss – not so much.

(Not so much, Thomas. Not so much. Listen to the wind, even the wind is laughing at you, you self-assured fool. Why don't you choose as you ought and leave your blushing, life-starved Lieutenant alone?)

He breathed, hot cheeks tingling under the cool touch of the mischievous wind. The right answer was so close, almost a mirror image of himself. But -

But Frederick, darling Frederick, delicious Captain Wentworth, had always been entirely too close and accessible, entirely too perfect for a liaison. Not a shred of dangerous indiscretion with all of the depth of genuine feeling. Far too prudent, far too secretive. Entirely too good a match for Thomas' cause, with his experience with the buccaneers of St Domingue. Frederick, the lover and companion Thomas clearly should have. Frederick, entirely within reach. Take him, Thomas, settle for him, let the other one go. If there is Frederick to be had, what do you dare to desire?

What indeed.

He rose to his feet, carelessly smacking the heavy tome against the desk, and walked briskly despite the uncomfortable tightness in his breeches until he reached the window and pulled the panes closed, silencing the noise from the outside.

Inside his head, the wind still laughed at his meek surrender, mocking Thomas' selfish obstinacy and immoderate, amorous urge to keep Lieutenant James McGraw entirely to himself.

His desires on edge, Thomas believed action an indispensable necessity, and set out to write an unavoidable letter to the dearest Captain before seeking James out again.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Meditations by Marcus Aurelius Antoninus:
> 
> Many the lumps of frankincense on the same altar; one falls there early and another late, but it makes no difference. (IV, 15)
> 
> Thomas' thoughts echo the same Meditations, in Meric Casaubon's translation:
> 
> Socrates said, 'What will you have? the souls of reasonable, or unreasonable creatures? Of reasonable. But what? Of those whose reason is sound and perfect? or of those whose reason is vitiated and corrupted? Of those whose reason is sound and perfect. Why then labour ye not for such? Because we have them already. What then do ye so strive and contend between you?' (X)


End file.
